


In the Planes Beyond

by Quartzitedecadence



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Having the responsibility over the people who have to save the planes is tolling, Hopeful Ending, Introspection, Spoilers for Episode: e060-066 The Stolen Century Parts 1-7, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 22:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15672726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quartzitedecadence/pseuds/Quartzitedecadence
Summary: Davenport mulled over his duties as a captain. It's tolling, but someone had to do it. Sometimes he really yearned to sleep. Maybe for a year. Just one year.





	In the Planes Beyond

Whatever force that brought Davenport here, the captain had no clue. He can’t remember how he got here either. Residing in the helm one moment, then outside by the railing the next.

 

The stars weren’t up anyway.

 

Yet here he was, gripping onto the railing for dear life.

 

He should go back to the helm. The ship needed a pilot, and autopilot never left a sweet taste in his mouth nowadays. It was in his best interests to stay productive, to do something other than mull over irrational ideas. At least there was some sense in his reasoning after this long. 

 

There was precious time left. The Hunger was improving. The crew had to adapt. Plans needed to be cultivated.

 

This was Cycle what? 78? Cycle 78. It’s a cycle. Rinse and repeat. Always rinse and fucking repeat. They would come back when the Starblaster was able to breach a plane’s boundaries. 

 

Perhaps the reason why he was out here was to get a breather. He holed himself up in the helm when it wasn’t mealtime or calling for a meeting for this current Cycle. Fear was festering in the crew like a parasite. Himself included, no matter how much he hid the emotion, it affected his actions. He had sleeping problems before but this is getting out of hand, collapsing on any given occasion. He knew he could trust his crew. However, he was their captain and he had to be in his prime. He had to be their hope. Their faith in him kept him going. They kept him alive.

 

He was teetering between life and death all the time. One mistake could cause a butterfly effect or a ripple that gets worse and worse. He couldn’t falter. One slip of a wrist on the wheel could cause the ship to crash. One err could allow everyone to be killed. Everyone was too stubborn to capitulate when the threat of the Hunger loomed. Close calls were becoming a relevant event. It was terrifying to think that if they all died then the whole system of planes could collapse with no one to assist. They had become wary of the dangers.

 

Davenport didn’t want to surrender. Not his crew. Not his ship. Most definitely not his mission.

 

This was his life’s work. Davenport extracted information whenever he got his hands on it. The Light of Creation, astrophysics, engineering. This all happened when he was a child. He idolized his parents who fostered his interest in the unknown. He wanted to create new discoveries. He compiled his knowledge into his aspiration.

 

His mission was supposed to be an innocuous reconnaissance of various planes, taking into account the residents, the flora and fauna, the history, nothing like this. They weren’t prepared to deal with a creature that devoured planes for power. Yet he was sure he brought the right people for the job to combat the hardships brought by different planes. He handpicked them from personal interviews, searching for their strong suits and weaknesses.

 

The first journey was supposed to be two months.

 

Two months were not the same as years.

 

He risked his crew multiple times, asking them to trust him. The strong, reliable leader when he wanted to throw everything on the ground and call it quits. 

 

No one was going to die. It wasn’t planned. 

 

Then, Magnus died at the end of the first Cycle. Everyone was horrified, but Davenport kept driving the ship to let the others survive. He could still hear the crew’s cries. When they breached the surface of the plane, Magnus came back. It didn’t make sense. Though, Davenport will consider it as a blessing.

 

His death wasn’t the end of it. More of his crew died under various circumstances. The consequences of missing someone weren’t ideal It wasn’t natural to die more than once. They all died more than once. They always resurrected in the end. Didn’t make it any less terrifying. Yet his crew ventured on.

 

So he couldn’t surrender to the Hunger for his crew. For the people, they lost from their home planet. For the people who required someone to protect them.

 

But the captain yearned to rest. He stood tall in his red armor of cloth, even though his hands shook underneath the sleeves. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

 

Gods, they were all going to die one Cycle and no one would save them. They saved so many planes yet no one could save them. What could they do? The people disappeared when they boarded the ship! Magnus was crushed. Davenport was too, he just wasn’t as verbal as their guard.

 

This was his fault. This was his mission and he fucked it up real bad. Things were falling into shambles. No one asked for this. No one wanted to this.

 

What Davenport would give to yell at the fates that brought them here.

 

Maybe give them a big insult when he jumps off this rail. He paled. When then that become a  _ when _ ?

 

No, no. The pilot wretched himself off the railing. No, he couldn’t give up on his crew. Not now. Not ever. There was much to do and dying delayed the completion.

 

Dying wasn’t ideal. Davenport died less than most of his crew but can’t begin to describe the complications it raised or the lost time. Time. They had a surplus of it Cycles back. It changed when the Hunger pursued them more, taking them by surprise. What happened to it? He assigned people to work on the ground while others stayed on the ship to watch over it. Losing the ship was like losing their lifeline.

 

Would it be so bad to lose their lifeline?

 

Yes! His crew would be gone. Who knew what happened to their souls when it disappears by unnatural forces? Who knew what happened to the planes? Davenport doesn’t want his crew to die. It was inevitable. People die. Even though his crew was destined to resurrect, the damage was done. There was a crater in his crew when one falls.

 

Sometimes he wished his deaths on these planes were permanent. Just his, no one else’s. He wouldn’t have to bear the guilt of bringing these innocent people into his mission. His supposed harmless mission!

 

What went wrong? No one accounted for the Hunger. When did the Hunger pop up? Why did it have to be them? Why was it them? Why did they have to deal with the Hunger?! This was like a sci-fi novel, and truly, it wouldn’t hurt to have a break.

 

The guilt of bringing these people pressed down on him. He never said it out loud. He was so very proud of them, albeit never outright praising them. They were going to be amazing. However, there was a persistent lump in his throat whenever he addressed them. It was his fault that they were headfirst into trouble. Why was it only this Cycle that he’s having such an endeavor talking to the people he knew for decades?

 

He opened himself to his crew more than he the regulations opted. The group accepted him. He knew them well enough, but never personally before all of this. They were each other’s strong suits as they were their weaknesses. They had to work in tandem. He only helped direct their goals.

 

Why die when his crew required him to stay and command?

 

Because it was so much simpler. Plus it would just be one Cycle, there was no harm in that, was there? His crew survived without him for a couple of Cycles, one more couldn’t hurt.

 

Lucretia was fairing well as a director. Maybe he had an opportunity to take a break, only for a year.

 

He  _ had _ died and left his crew to fend for themselves. They did a fine job of doing so. But this wasn’t the protocol. He was not fighting to keep himself alive. What this was, this was an act of surrender. He wouldn’t surrender. This was why he held the position of Captain. He was too stubborn. It was his duty to see that his crew was in best condition.

 

He didn’t turn away from the vast descent from the sky. He  _ shouldn’t _ think about this. This  _ shouldn’t _ be considered. Oh, he  _ should _ sleep, he wasn’t thinking rationally.

 

But sleeping wasn’t simple to come by. With the nightmares of the people that could’ve been saved, the eyes staring him down, and the worst one: when his crew blamed him for his actions. It was well-deserved. While that was the case, it did not mean it did not make his heartache.

 

With a deep breath to calm his nerves, he straightened his back and launched himself back to the helm like his first coherent thought recommended that he do. If he slept on the wheel, so be it. It was a better distraction than looking at the horrifying freefall.

 

When the doors to the helm pushed open, Davenport rubbed the sleep away, blinking to see if his vision was forming illusions. No, it wasn’t. He saw a burly man in the helm, looking baffled.

 

“Magnus, did you need something?” He said, approaching the man. His shaking hand clasped behind his straight back.

 

Magnus whipped his head around from the controls, then performed a sheepish wave, “Hey, Cap’nport! We were wondering why you weren’t there at lunch.”

 

Lunch? They didn’t have an exact time for all the different planes, so they used the time from their former planet. How much time did he miss? Did he miss breakfast too? Davenport wasn’t hungry. He was sick to the stomach.

 

If he were to miss lunch, it would cause wariness. The twins were insistent that everyone eats their proper share, especially now that it was paramount for everyone to be at their best. Davenport supported it. Ironically, he wasn’t acting to his words. He was known to keep his word.

 

“I was scouting the world from above. While I have already sent you and Lucretia on reconnaissance, I prefer to have a bird’s eye view to evaluate the vicinity.” The captain lied. His lies flowed out of his mouth. His small structure forced him to be cunning with his plans. The crew shouldn’t worry about him. This was his fault and he would take it with the planes on his shoulders.

 

Well, he did scout the world to the point where most of the planet was manufactured with water and if he fell there would be no land to cling on. So Davenport didn’t lie, right?

 

And innocent Magnus paid no mind to his lie. The protector urged him to the mess hall. Magnus isn’t exactly innocent. Davenport was aware that the human wasn’t dumb either, but he relied more on his heart than his mind. Magnus didn’t deserve this hardship of dying and dying and dying. The man deserved a decent life, maybe with a wife.

 

While being dragged to the mess hall, Davenport found himself pulling himself to the farthest range from the railing. Magnus led him along, chattering on about the possibility of sea dogs in this plane. If he caught his captain’s silence as queasy, Davenport didn’t know. Davenport did attempt to reply to the man’s excited chatter. His attempts ended with no words. How could a wordless one be capable of being a captain of a plane-shaking crew? He couldn’t imagine it happening. The captain did offer a smile whenever the man turned back to check on him.

 

The doors to the mess hall slammed open, causing Davenport to flinch. He’s losing his edge. When would sleep come to him and allow him to rationalize the situation? Either way, he rectified his posture as soon as he entered the room.

 

“Order’s up, Cap’nport. Been wondering what you’ve been doing. I was going to take you out of the helm myself if Mags didn’t do it already.” One of the chefs said. It was Lup, placing a plate of steaming food and a cup of coffee on the table.

 

Lup and her twin Taako were their assigned cooks. It was a unanimous decision. Though, it seemed that Taako wasn’t here. It’s probably a late lunch by the scene at the table. Lucretia wasn’t present nor was Merle, but Barry was there scarfing down his meal. The engineer was here because Lup forced him out of an experiment. Seemed like they were always experimenting these days to fight against the Hunger. The thought made Davenport’s stomach churn.

 

There was a time where this table was filled with the crew, chattering and laughing. They were busying themselves now.

 

He subjected these people to an unanticipated danger. Did they blame him for it? Why didn’t they confront him in previous Cycles?

 

Davenport swallowed, “Thank you, Lup.” By the time of the second Cycle, the crew started dropping formalities with each other. It didn’t mean he wasn’t polite or that the lies would not stop flowing from his mouth. It didn’t work that way. “I was reevaluating our position.”

 

“And you  _ could _ do that after you eat,” Magnus said. “If Fisher could eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner, you could probably do that too.”

 

_ Ah _ , so Magnus knew his captain didn’t eat breakfast. More observant than he looked. Davenport didn’t acknowledge this knowledge as he settled at the table.

 

The meal was displayed as if it was from a gourmet restaurant. The twins held their cooking skills to high acclaim, and they were correct. Their food was one of the best that Davenport has ever tasted.

 

His stomach begged to differ. A strange bile built in his throat, ruining his appetite. His solution to the problem was to sip at the black coffee. The steaming beverage burned his tongue. It didn’t remove the taste, only made it tolerable. There was a time where he was liberal with cream and sugar. Black coffee wasn’t his preferred choice, but it usually shocked him awake. It didn’t do that this time. He was still sleep-deprived. Wasting a spell slot on Disguise Self wasn’t ideal, yet it allowed him to look put together, per se. Sure didn’t feel like it. As long as it put his crew at ease, or less uneasy, Davenport would cast any day.

 

“Hey, uh, Captain,” the man across the table said. “Are you, well- are you going to eat?” Barry wasn’t known for his social skills. Davenport hadn’t heard of the time. In other cases, Barry was a reliable scientist who conducted his experiments in the earnest. Wasn’t he just scarfing down his food a minute earlier? Now the man was eating his meal at leisure.

 

_ At least Barry knew how to eat. _

 

Huh, Davenport didn’t notice that the coffee was finished. And it didn’t make him feel any better as he placed it down in a dignified manner. “I’ll- yes, of course,” The captain said.

 

The food stared back at him. It taunted his stomach, but his stomach would not yield. A nauseous feeling came. He fought down the bitter bile with a bite from the meal. Tasted like nothing. These meals were full of personality and flavor that Davenport used to be able to appreciate. He was pretty sure that this course was prepared the same.

 

The food wasn’t the only thing staring at him. The others were too. He could  _ feel  _ their eyes, burning right through him. The silence couldn’t be there for no reason when he could see their mouths moving in his peripheral. Their conversation was static. Regardless, if he was going to keep up a facade, he was going to do it right!

 

“Whatcha think, Cap’nport? Totally got it in one,” Lup said. Pride was radiating off of her voice. Was it?

 

“Always,” was the automatic response as the captain forced down the rest of his food under the gazes of the others. As meticulous as he was, his crew knew that he thought about food as a cursory necessity. By using that to his advantage, he avoided picking at his dish and immediately packing up by the time it was empty.

 

In a snap, he thanked the chef and left for the helm, leaving his crew to murmur amongst themselves. If it was about him, then it’s better he didn’t hear in this mood.

 

Striding off to helm, he remained wary of the railing. It called out to him. It called for him to stay. He lost in the battle of wills as he approached the railing to view the vast waters.

 

The waters weren’t the same as space. They both had different properties, creatures, and uses. However, both were  _ so  _ vast. What laid beyond them is unknown and curious. Davenport’s studies were about space. He was at home with it. The waters were a whole new entity by itself. That fact made it very enticing.

 

The captain didn’t move a muscle. He gazed at the beyond, reveling in absolutely nothing.

 

And the next thing he realized was that he was in a bed. His own soft bed on the ship, not of the hard mattresses in the medical bay, nor on the controls in the helm. He jolted into a sitting position to gather information about his surroundings. He scanned the room, for indeed, it was his room the way he left it days ago. The papers from his logs scattered on his desk, books of all sorts organized in shelves, his clothes hung and prim, a ukulele hiding in an alcove in the corner. Yes, the perfect picture of when he left the room a few days back.

 

Davenport blinked. Once. Twice. One thing didn’t fit. Why didn’t he see Merle as the first thing since he was sitting by the foot of his bed? Merle was muttering something before he caught his eye and grinned.

 

“No offense, Dav, but you look like complete shit.”

 

Davenport huffed, “Gee, that’s awfully kind of you to say, Merle. Thanks.” He scanned the room again. “How am I…?”

 

“You fell asleep near the edge of the rails. What were you thinking?” Merle’s grin transformed into a frown.

 

What  _ was  _ he thinking? “Ah, thank you for your concern, but I have to look out.” Looking out for what? The words just flew out his mouth. He nearly stood up but then Merle urged him down to the bed. 

 

“Have you seen  _ those _ bags under your eyes? I may not be the smartest cleric around, but I know when someone is sleep-deprived.” Merle said. “Magnus said you were lookin’ outside for  _ hours _ .”

 

Yeah, he had seen them. Davenport ran a hand through his hair. The duration of Disguise Self was about an hour usually. The captain tested the spell within other planes and increased the time with the number of uses. Needless to say, he had used the spell more with his crew than the native people to the various planes. Guess he didn’t try to sustain it while sleeping. Did he sleep? Didn’t seem like it.

 

His heart dropped. Who else saw him like this? Like a weak person who wasn’t able to lead. Merle wouldn’t let the others see him like this, would he? Though, the captain would’ve expected to see the other members in his quarters. Just act like Merle was the only who knew. 

 

“Merle, I wouldn’t have hired you if I  _ did _ believe you weren’t competent,” the captain said.

 

“You’re dodging the damn question,” the dwarf said.

 

Merle had the tact of a feral boar. Those boars didn’t much tact as far as Davenport knew. Merle didn’t mean any ill-will by his words, it's just how he is. He’d probably force the answer out if Davenport refused to respond.

 

The captain sighed, “Yes, I do. Merle- there’s just- I can’t do nothing.” He hated being useless. His hands itched to have something in its palm.

 

“And if our captain decides to fall asleep when John comes?” The cleric said.

 

A lump formed in the gnome’s throat.

 

“Dav, take a break! We’ve, what, been working day to night every single da-“

 

“Then what! Then what happens if I falter?! Look, I have to do something. There were so many close calls! I  _ can’t _ afford to relax. If I neglect to use our gathered information to find the Light of Creation or fail to- fuck, lose the ship. What can we do?” The gnome buried his head in his hands. Sometimes, it made him wonder how Merle makes him speak his mind.

 

The silence was persistent until he broke away from his hands to look at his friend, “Merle, what if- what if it’s just worthless? Why are we the only ones to do this? I- what if you all die?”

 

The situation felt so hopeless. They were always running. Where was their goal? The goal didn’t look  _ close _ or was seen in their parameters.

 

“Y’know we’re gonna come back,”  Merle said.

 

“That’s not what I meant,” Davenport shook his head. “What if you all- what if the deaths became permanent, we’d lose each other.”

 

The bonds between the crew were strong, nurtured by the years together. They died yet they returned at the end of the Cycle. It hurt to lose someone, even though it was temporary. He couldn’t bear to imagine it was certain. The crew wouldn’t be complete like the remnants of the constellations of the planes they failed to save.

 

“But- by Pan, Dav, that’s not something we can control. Obviously, we’d do something. We gotta keep going. We’ve gotta honor them.” Merle said.

 

_ Honor them. _

 

This mission was their burden filled with choices and sacrifices.

 

“Pardon me,” Davenport said, pushing himself off the bed to the complaints of the cleric. He turned to Merle who had a petulant expression. Then, the captain walked out of the room.

 

He found himself on the deck, leaning on the railing as he stargazed. The stars were suspended in space, all in unique formations, watching the universe around them. Some stars were missing. Their sacrifices had to be honored. His crew learned and lost on this journey. There was more to come.

 

If he jumped, would the stars honor him by letting him join them? To shine a light over his crew. Would he come back? Did he want to come back? Was he the captain they needed?

 

Davenport couldn’t answer these questions. They choked him. He didn’t want to know the answers to these questions.

 

No, he wouldn’t answer them now. If he jumped on his own volition here, it would be the same as abandoning his crew. He couldn’t abandon his crew. He tightened his grip on the railing. He inhaled. His lungs filled with an overwhelming sense of anxiety.

 

They could operate without him, but it was only for so long. Maybe it’s a blessing that none of them died definitely. If no one could steer the ship fast enough to flee from the Hunger, then that would be his fault.

 

He brought them here. The twins, a writer, a protector, an engineer, and a cleric. Those people had changed for the better or the worse. No one was the same, but they were the same people he brought to this mission. This erratic mission.

 

They weren’t perfect or even whole. However, he will be damned if he didn’t own up to his choices. He was required to lead them. To be cold and analytical to the situation to bring out the best solution.

 

When he exhaled, his grip released.

 

Davenport turned his back and strides back into his room.

 

For now, he decided, he’d stay. Weary, sleep-deprived, frightened, but determined. He was their captain, under control and calm. He’ll apologize to Merle later for his dip in character.

 

For now, he’d let the stars guide him as he remained here. With his family.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, I planned on having Lucretia and Taako in the fic, but they just didn't fit? when I slotted them in somewhere, it felt odd and forced.
> 
> Also, writing dialogue is super difficult.
> 
> I never planned for this fic to be over a thousand words. I guess I have a lot of things to write about Davenport. We don't have a lot of information about him, so a lot is inference. Nonetheless, it's fun.
> 
> Years of Cycles tires the person in charge. Though this person is too stubborn for this.


End file.
